


Legacy

by Senji



Category: Starfire Series - Various Authors
Genre: Epilogue, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 14:34:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1095096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Senji/pseuds/Senji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In epilogue of The Shiva Option...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Legacy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Trobadora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trobadora/gifts).



“Clear skies, Fang Zhaarnak, you are good for atmospheric insertion.”

“Acknowledged,” Zhaarnak'telmasa replied and powered his pinnace towards the landing zone, alert for any sign of Bug helicopters. It had been a long time since he'd piloted in what was, technically, a combat zone; but for once the demands of blood debt were in alignment with personal honour and, to be honest, enjoyment.

The skies of the blue planet below were lit up by HVM fire, with irregular bursts of light marking KISS impacts. The Crucian Union and the Grand Alliance had mostly cleared the largest continent, leaving small groups of Bugs to be tracked down and defeated in small skirmishes, and it was a mesa in the middle of that was Zhaarnak's target. The mesa had been the site of the original ground force landing; as it had been easy to clear and was easily defendable against the Bug swarms.

Now the beachhead had been cleared away leaving just a small landing field on the south side and a team of Federation engineers had constructed a spiral ramp up the side of the mesa to allow the natives to climb to the top. And upon that top the natives themselves had been doing their own construction. Across the plains and savannas below, everywhere where the Bugs had kept a pen of them as meat animals, small cairns had been constructed of local stone and bones of the fallen. Up here, using only muscle power and such limited pulleys and rollers as they'd been able to construct, a much larger cairn was under construction. This one was more than ten metres tall already, a base constructed of boulders larger than any of the member races of the Alliance, with glints of metal showing in the gaps. The intention was that by the time it was completed it would have stone from all over the planet, brought as it was liberated from the Bugs.

* * *

TNFS _Iwo Jima_ had been on site for a week, and was nearing the end of her salvage tour. She was an assault transport that had lost about half of her compliment of marines and pinnaces and, with the war starting to wind down, had been assigned here as a brief, if slightly gruesome, break before returning to Alpha Centauri for replacements and resupply.

The aftermath of a space battle, however destructive, is a lot of valuable flying metal and usually a small number of corpses and other personal effects that provided a small, but valuable, comfort for the relatives of those who'd been lost. This battle appeared to have been worse than most, and only a couple of dozen of identifiable bodies had been recovered, but they'd filled up most of their boat bays with large sections of debris.

Sergeant Harris Miller was cataloguing the last shift's haul in Bay 5. Three twisted lumps of Bug hull metal had been tagged to be dropped off at the nearest repair vessel, and the fourth looked like it would be just the same. This piece looked almost … melted … and he was already tapping the tagging details into his handheld as he looked around it; then something different caught his eye and he pulled a hand cutter from his tool belt to investigate closer.

“Private! Go find the Major, I think he's going to be interested in this one!”

* * *

Zhaarnak looked at the monument appreciatively as he guided the pinnace on final approach. It seemed to be something universal among all militant races — even the Gorm built shrines in remembrance of those who had died defending the lomus — and he thought that this was much more appropriate than the statue he heard that the Humans were planning on erecting in Zaaia'pharaan.

He thought his _vilkshatha_ brother agreed too — the statue had already been the cause of two arguments; no, he reminded himself, Raymond'telmasa called them ‘discussions’; whereas his response to this request had been an Orion-brief nod. Since they'd left the flagship he'd sat quietly in the rear half of the pinnace, his package on his knees, filling the compartment with emotions Zhaarnak understood, but couldn't quite comprehend across the species-barrier.

As the pinnace landed a party of Federation Marines detached themselves from a grouping that encompassed all the races of the Alliance and presented arms to the right of the hatch. Zhaarnak secured the pinnace's controls and opened the hatch, stopping only to touch Raymond on the shoulder. He stepped through, redundantly scanning the horizon for threats, then turned towards the marines and saluted, fist clenched, before backing up to flank the hatch.

The Bosun stepped forward and trilled on her pipe before announcing in a stentorian voice “Survey Flotilla 62 Arriving!”

Admiral Raymond Prescott stepped out of the hatch, eyes focused on infinity, carrying a nearly flat object wrapped in the flag of the Federation. He turned with a heel-snap to face the Marines, who saluted, then about-faced.

Stepping forward he presented himself to the leader of the natives. A six-legged vertebrate, like all the other higher lifeforms on the planet, the Speaker of the Freed Harnahese stood about shoulder-height to the Admiral and wore a lightly-ornamented harness reminiscent of Orion military ‘uniform’. She was flanked by a pair of slightly taller males bearing simple spears which they crossed in front of Prescott before retreating at her nod.

“Welcome to our world, Liberator Prescott,” she said, with the aid of a Human translator, “what burden do you bear?”.

Two of the marines passed their arms to their neighbours, walked forward, and unwrapped the flag from Prescott's package. One of them took the flag, folded it, and they returned to their unit.

Prescott, with a tear in his eye, bowed deeply over the bent metal plate in his arms before offering it to the Speaker.

“I bring this for the Cenotaph. It is the Dedication Plaque of the TNFS Concorde, last flagship of Rear Admiral Andrew Prescott, which discovered the way into Home Hive One.

“He was my brother.”

> If I should die, think only this of me;  
>  That there's some corner of a foreign field  
>  That is for ever England.  
>  — Rupert Brooke.


End file.
